


Lost in Time

by BarPurple



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Plunkett and Macleane (1999)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Magic, Rumbelle Secret Santa 2016, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 22:43:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8916010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: Belle was wondering how many times she was going to meet men that looked like her husband.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notalwayslate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwayslate/gifts).



> from the prompt Have you lost your way?

Plunkett wove his way through the filth that littered the street. New York might be in the New World, but when it came to shit it had a lot in common with London. A shout from above gave him just enough time to dart closer to the wall and avoid the nightsoil that splattered into the street. He smirked at the country toff who’d made the mistake of looking at the shout. 

He left the toff trading insults with the pisspot tosser and rounded the corner only to collide with something warm and soft that was a damn sight better that what was dripping down the toff’s face.

“Oh! I am so sorry.”

Plunkett took a step back; his mouth fell open as he saw what the woman was wearing. She was covered, but in such a way that she looked indecent.

“Rumple?”

He gave a sniff and self-consciously ran his hands over his clothes, tugging them straight.

“Yeah, well it’s been a long night. At least I’m wearing clothes. I’ve seen whores wear more than you’ve got on.”

The woman’s blue eyes narrowed, but any waspish comment she was going to make was lost as a couple of revellers shouted a bawdy comment, which proved Plunkett’s point of view nicely. Her checks flamed red, no lady of the night blushed like that, with a sigh Plunkett shrugged out of his greatcoat and offered it to her. She took it with a small smile and wrapped it around her shoulders before dipping a curtsey.

“Why thank you kind sir.”

He rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck and mumbled; “It don’t matter.”

He thought she might be laughing at him the way her face lit up with a warm smile, but it was difficult to get offended with her, she was such a wee thing that she was lost in the folds of his coat even though Macleane called him a shortarse, (just the once, a dagger to the toe was enough to discourage than sort of remark).

“Erm, could you please tell me where I am?”

“Philpot Street.”

“Which city?”

That made his eyebrows jump in surprise. It was easily done to get turned around and mistake which street you were on, but how could she not know what city she was in? He edge back as she reached for his arm.

“I’m not dangerous. I’m just very lost.”

The fanciful idea that her strange lilting accent was weaving a spell over him flittered through his mind, but was dismissed. She just seemed to real in her honesty to be a danger to him.

“This is New York.”

She closed her eyes and muttered what he took to be a prayer. He had to laugh when she tried to clap her hands together only to flap the too big sleeves of his coat around. It didn’t dampen her joy in the slightest.

“I’m getting closer!”

“To what?”

“Home.”

She gave a sudden shudder which made his reach out to pull his coat tighter around her.

“We should get inside so you can warm up.”

“No, I need to go.”

She slipped away from him and took off down the street at a run, heading in the direction of the seriously rough end of town.

“Not that way!”

She didn’t stop. As she turned a corner there was a flash of light. Plunkett got there to find nothing but a shoe lying in the middle of the road. He picked it up and was relieved that it was solid and real because he was beginning to think that he’d dreamed the tiny woman with blue eyes.

 

Belle landed heavily on her hands and knees as the magic propelled her to a new location. She winced as she brushed the dirt from her hands, the borrowed coat had protected her knees. A mirthless laugh escaped her when she saw she’d lost a shoe, finding a new pair would be a priority where ever she was now. As she tried to get her bearings she wondered if there was a reason she kept bumping into men that bore a strong resemblance to Rumple. If, no when, she got back to Storybrooke she’d ask her husband. She pulled her useless shoe off her foot and shoved it in one of the pockets of the great coat she acquired. She wished she’d found out the name of that man, he was a lot sweeter than the army colonel she’d met last time.


End file.
